He picked up the motor-bike like it was a toy, it's engine still running. I watched with amazement as he started bringing his powerful arms together and with a metallic groan of protest, the bike's frame began to contort. He hugged the cycle closer, bringing his bulging muscular arms together and slowly crushing the machine between them. With a final sputter, the engine died. In a few moments, he had compressed the motorcycle into a compact sphere about the size of a grapefruit - other than a few stray bolts and strips of rubber that had fallen to the hard-packed desert ground. He smiled then, as he threw that crushed ball into the sky. I never saw where it came down - if indeed, it ever did.
S Munson
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2023-03-28 07:09:03 +0000 UTCS Munson
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2023-03-27 07:14:49 +0000 UTCS Munson
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2023-03-27 04:13:31 +0000 UTCS Munson
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2023-03-23 03:44:16 +0000 UTCS Munson
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2023-03-23 02:13:36 +0000 UTCS Munson
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2023-03-22 13:16:16 +0000 UTCS Munson
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2023-03-22 02:45:16 +0000 UTCS Munson
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